[centre][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181008/b02a8e514a847d83c3d8892fffdb6f35.png[/img][/centre][hr]
Senja's advances were sudden. Michael was still concerned over Senja's safety that he didn't expect her delicate hand laying on his cheek, chin and torso. And then she leaned closer. A soft touch of the lip rested on his right cheek for a few seconds. A moment in when time slowed down. A gesture of affection worth a thousand words. 

But the intimate moment between the two of them ended quickly as the gravity of the situation pounced on them. The fact that in their place, dozens, or perhaps hundreds, of people were in the ground zero of the blast. Aside from the fact that these people are dying, the infrastructure of the site was probably in ruins. And Senja was the one to realize that first.

The sapper nodded firmly as he watched the Nordic huntress speed off toward the shell site. She was a kind and beautiful soul. It would not be the last time of the day that Michael would see her. He followed her soon after

...to the utter devastation.

Contrary to the atmosphere at the camp, this was an apocalypse and anarchy in the making. Weak cries for help haunted the air. In the corner, a soldier, who were caught heavily in the blast, whom Michael could barely identify, was just sitting listlessly. His face was charred by the ashes, his mind screaming for help but his body and mouth gave in. And there he was simply ignored...as soldiers were scrambling around the collapsed buildings, trying to save whoever they could still save. 

He's gone before his body could. His eyes toward the sky sent a wrench into the Cruxian's guts. Eyes to the sky for the last time in his life. 

[color=bf00ff]"May God be with you..."[/color] 

Michael approached the dying soldier. Those painful eyes looked over, as the man uttered the words. 

[color=bf00ff]"...through the storm of life,"[/color] 

He gently placed his hand on the man's shoulder.

[color=bf00ff]"a safe haven, voice of calm reassurance, healing balm;"[/color]

A cross drawn on his chest. 

[color=bf00ff]"and when the storms are over..."[/color] 

Michael could feel the soldier's energy slowly limping away. 

[color=bf00ff]"...bring you safely home."[/color]

Not before long, he was gone. A bright soul ended in just a matter of minutes. The windows of opportunity for his future and possibly his country's and the world's slipped close as Michael slowly closed his eyes for the very last time. 

Knowing that he couldn't really give the rescuers anymore works than they were overloading themselves, Michael carried his body over to the makeshift lines a few blocks away. Just another statistics.

This wasn't just a few dozens or a hundred. This was near the thousands. And it could very well break the record, as many more were still trapped beneath the rubbles. This many helpers were barely enough. Michael knew he had to help. And Senja's words rang with him. He knew he had to ask for more people to come over for help. 

Michael briefly returned and went a few rounds through the camps. Unfortunately, his search for helpers went futile. The impact of the shell was as psychological as it was physical. People were listless in the horror of what could be facing them ahead of their iron sights. What monstrosity were they expecting to be ripping their carcasses in the next upcoming days? And among those who managed to reel in their sanity, they were distracted by the other event that plagued the day. Jean's scouting party had returned. And along with them...

[color=bf00ff]"Thomas..."[/color]

The respected soldier who fought with him, whom he just had interesting conversations with the other day, is dead. A pale, amputated corpse was what remained of a lean, macho and energetic fellow. His warm, funny, charming voice was forever silenced. His only instances of life now only observable as distant memories. And it was like that: another person Michael knew personally one moment was dead in the next.

What was he supposed to feel right now? Like those shedding tears beside his remains? Or those chanting ideological slander over there that attempted to bargain for grounds for Thomas's death. And the head of that distasteful speech was no other than Luke. And without long, the disatisfied Ines lunged insults at him, which almost turned into a fist fight if it hadn't been for the few soldiers who held him back, or the calm defusal of the situation by Isaac. While he was grateful to them being the calm rationale of his NCO, what energy left that survived that shell blast that should have been reserved for the rescue and the comforting of the victims had been wasted on fighting ideological warfare with each other out there.

He's on his own now. The life of those who still lives in the blast is on him.

Leaving the bickering and the mourning of Thomas's death behind him, Michael set off back to the site of the shell. The screams of the wounded, trapped, calling out for the faintess light in the dark sky continued to batter his conscience as soon as he arrived. And he knew that once he steps in, there would be more to come. More people he couldn't save. More people he could've saved but was forced to abandon for the majority. More people on the brink of salvation only to perish only a matter of minutes or even seconds from rescue. And the burn would leave a mark for decades to come, or maybe even until he was in the wooden box.

It was worth it anyway.[hr]
Like some of his squadmates today, Michael also found it difficult to leave his bed. But the struggle was also a physical matter. The rescue of the trapped soldiers rolled steadily into nighttime, with no end insight. Throughout the entire day of the day before, Michael's only two locations aside from the destroyed street was the kitchen, where he briefly stopped by twice to eat, and the restroom. His fears of a counterattack, of another gigantic shell of this caliber were continuously swept aside by the cries for help beneath the rubbles. He barely even counted how many he did save, or did save successfully. It was just too many, and the raging muscle pain kept his rationale away from that. The pain that carried over to today.

[color=bf00ff]"Oh my lord..."[/color]

His initial twitch of his limbs were pitiful. The fear of rushing pain prevented him from making any drastic movements. But eventually, he did force himself to get his body up from his bed. Michael had done these sorts of labour before; being a sapper is pretty demanding of that. But to do it from morning till night was, to be honest, even a little much for an experienced construction workers. Now, it was taking its toll on him. And he still had a mission to do

Today is the tunnel mission. 

A dangerous road laid ahead. And there were only two outcomes for him. One would be the all too familiar grim reaper. The other would be Michael completely exhausted by the long hours of physical torture. Both are just as undesirable as the other. The only difference was the period. May the lord grant him the strength to grit through all of this. 

Again, he was quite early for his mission. And by that a bit too early for anything. Perhaps the tension of the life gamble had brought him up before the sun. But if anything, he didn't find much point hanging around in the rain for too long, so decided to remain within the boundary of his bunk, hoping that the crawling nervousness did not overwhelm him before it all began. A death sentence hanging by a thread; Michael'd need a distractor.

Out of the blue, the reminder of the letters flew through his mind. Oh yeah, he hadn't replied to his mother's letter just yet. Funnily enough, it wasn't the norm that he did so. He had never let her letters go unanswered for at most a day, but he attributed this to the shouting showdown he had the other day with the accursed Captain Middlefinger. Thankfully he still had some time to compose a letter. 

While thoughts of the worst news possible was dreadful to think about, that he was indeed writing in case of his death, the words Michael wrote today echoed none of that.[hr]
[hider=Letter to dear mother]
Dearest Mother

I couldn't express how much brighter my day did become when I receive your letter. Funnily enough, like how the great mathematician 200 years ago had predicted the law of physics, you were right. I never wanted to go back to that moment of death on the hill or in that gassed inn where I was frozen like the ice of the Antarctic at the disgust of chlorine warfare, but you were right. Its tough love. Things had gotten better since. It is majorly thanks to my great squadmates. Most of them are decent people, some really nice individuals who put their time to help me through this, while some possess some imperfect sins, but they are changable in my opinion. I really don't know where I would end up now if I was left to my own fending of the vultures. Especially without that girl Lucia.

She is an Asseni, two years younger than me. Though fate couldn't have been more cruel to her than now. She doesn't have the luxury of freedom, bound by the chains of oppression and abuse from her accursed officer who thinks he is a good father. If there's anything keeping her from smiling happily, it would most likely be him. And yet despite the weights on her shoulders, the help she gave me was tremendous. And I do not believe that comes from anywhere below the simple act of an individual caring for another one, like brothers and sisters, family from the same ancestry of homosapiens. 

How incredible is it the recovery from the trauma is done so simply through the showing of human kindness. God is right all along. Love heals wounds. 

Though does it heal for everyone? Including enemies? 

I'm not so certain about that. It's not sarcasm. I really don't know. Good friends are many here. Enemies as well, even in our own ranks. I have heard certain things about him, about how he had fallen from grace, and in the process losing his own humanity in the horrors of war. But even so I am certain that regardless of terrible aspects of his life up to this point, he would never have the place among the angels. I don't mean to rise to God's level of authority, but if you remember the Donster family that father once encountered, the resemblance is just obvious. But would showing him simple decency, one that he does not deserve, heals his wounds from the past? For his current self, his unrepentant stubborness is the metal bars. He is dropping the too old 'necessary evil' excuse. He does not play the same game as us. So is it even possible that kindness would get us to where we wanted him to be? To know the answer, it would take a little too much time. The time that I or he might not have.

But in the end, Lucia is the one who matters more. She needs a guide. A guide that does not consist of mindless obedience nor malicious compliance. A guide that enables the one ultimate right that human beings possess and deserve equally: the ability to make their own decisions, out of their own rationale and interest. Living to the will of another person, no matter how complacent it is, is not living at all. If no one's doing it, then I will. I need to repay that kindness she gave me. And most importantly, it's the right thing to do. I will not sit by and be silently indifferent. 

It sounds a little ambitious of me to be saying such a thing. After all, war survival is such a game of fate. And also due to the fact that the few hours after this letter is sent, I will be gambling with all my knowledge and skills I have learnt through the fire. A battle in the dim lights of an underground city, fighting for the important lifeline of the Imperial occupying forces. Only me and one of my squadmate fighting for our lives. Considering the failure of our squad to make it in the initial phase, it wouldn't be surprising if the higher ups just wanted to get rid of us. But I will prove them wrong. This letter shall not be my last.

I promise you.
[/hider][hr]
[color=0072bc]"Looks like you're ready for this."[/color] 

Michael turned his head around, to realize that he had finished the letter, wrapped it up and was already about to deliver it to the soldier in charge of the mail. And the voice that brought him back to Earth was his companion for today: Anna. And coming along with her was this particularly young fellow. Except for the inheritance of her bluish hair color, he emitted the aura completely different from her. The wild and predatory sky blue eyes looking at Michael without batting away, it was as if he was going to gobble him if it hadn't been for Anna before him, telepathically holding him back. He seemed honestly curious over Michael's identity, but the gaze wasn't a desire to learn new things or meet new people. It was...something. Something that only resided in the energy of specific types of youth. He was also wearing sapper gear, so apparently he was also his to be partner for this operation. Well that leaves only...

[color=bf00ff]"Reyna's not here yet..."[/color] 

[color=0072bc]"Oh? Your partner?"[/color] 

Michael nodded. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't known Reyna that well. She was mentioned often by the romanticist NCO Jean, and he had interacted with her briefly before Amone and inside the inn, but that was it. He hadn't worked with her or anything; this is the first time. A great opportunity to get to know the girl, and perhaps why Jean likes her that much, but might not be a great time for this mission that required a high level of team coordination. Well, if she knows what she's doing, that would relieve a lot of his worries. 

[color=0072bc]"Well, we still have time. I'll wait here for you."[/color]